Photo of the Week: Feb. 25, 2010

HOW I GOT THE SHOT: Before I moved to Israel, I don't believe I once imagined taking a hike on a trail made of water. In our desert climate, where it is hot and dry most of the year, water walks are very popular and a refreshing way to get close to places we don't frequently experience. I admit that toting $5,000 worth of equipment over slippery rocks while taking uncertain steps to unknown depths sets my heart racing, but I've done stupider things in pursuit of my art.

This shot was taken in the Snir Stream, a tributary of the Jordan River flowing through the Galilee near Kiryat Shemona. I cannot think of another photograph I've taken of moving water in which the water flows away from the camera. Waterfalls, rivers, rushing tides and gushing rain: the water always moves down and towards the camera. So I like this shot just because it's different and because the colors, especially anything in the sage family, are among my favorites. I stopped down to f22 and exposed for 1/2 second to capture both the movement of the water and turn it white, which creates a nice contrast to the surrounding brown and black rocks and tree stumps. Because many people are afraid or unable to hike through the stream, there are ample opportunities for quiet contemplation. You just may have to get your feet wet first.

Technical Data: Nikon D-300, 28-105 zoom @ 28mm, ISO 100, 1/2 second at f22.

Photo of the Week: Feb. 18, 2010

HOW I GOT THE SHOT: The coffee was cold; the companionship, warm. The light: fleeting yet divine. I could watch the sun rise every morning in the desert, bearing witness to the land slowly shedding its blanket of darkness, layer by layer. I've photographed this region of the Judean Desert above the Darja Canyon on four occasions. On my first visit, the sky was full of perfect puffy white clouds, but it was mid-morning and with my family in tow, I couldn't venture off in search of the ideal view. Inspired by that day's performance, I've returned at sunrise on three other occasions, each time looking for a new interpretation of one of Israel's classical looks.

On the morning I shot this photo last month, my hiking partner and I climbed a short hill not far from the access road to watch the day awaken. The most interesting view was to the west, with the rising sun at my back. As the sun crested the mountains in Jordan, the interplay of light and shadow revealed the contours of the peaks and valleys before us. Often, I find myself making quick, spontaneous decisions in the frenetic few minutes that I know the light will be kind to the camera. In this case, as I studied the expanse of desert in front of me, my mind switched modes of thinking, from composing the photo to simply capturing the texture of the scene unfolding in the distance.

"We seldom capture in a single photograph the full expression of what we see and feel," noted photographer Sam Abell. We can, however, move closer to that ideal by following our vision to our hearts and on to a truer expression of what we are feeling.

Photo of the Week: Feb. 11, 2010

HOW I GOT THE SHOT: The curtain is rising on spring in Israel as the landscape emerges from its winter watering to a drama of color that becomes an event for many Israelis. While wildflower viewing is certainly a feast for the eyes, Israelis also view the spectacle with a deep appreciation for the miracles of God's handiwork. Someone wrote to me recently that Israel is a small country with a big attitude. That's certainly true, and nowhere is that attitude more evident than in our affection for the country's natural beauty.

This week's photo was captured courtesy of a hot tip from a friend whose home overlooks this vineyard. Like all landscape photos, the effort lay in scouting the location and arriving at the proper time of day, in this case, moments before the first rays of morning sunlight struck the land. There is a softness to this first light that often lasts only a couple of minutes but which makes all the difference in producing the ethereal quality of the image. These pink wildflowers, the Egyptian Campion, grow in several regions of the country, including the Judean Mountains south of Jerusalem, where this photo was taken.

I composed the picture using two guideposts. First, I wanted to stagger the vines in a way that leads the eye from the front to the rear of the photo. Secondly, I included some trees and background to give additional context to photo's setting. For an excellent resource on Israeli wildflowers, including a comprehensive library of photos sortable by flower color plus interesting history and trivia, visit www.flowersinisrael.com.

Photo of the Week: Feb. 3, 2010

HOW I GOT THE SHOT: This week's photo falls into the category of "when life gives you lemons." Walking along the shore of the Red Sea in Eilat last month, I looked skyward and frowned at the thick clouds enveloping the region and scuttling chances for an eventful afternoon shoot. I paused to sit on a cement wall at water's edge and removed a persimmon from my camera bag, peeled away the skin with a pocket knife, and considered my options. Then I looked down at my feet.

I think the most successful artists are those who learn to see what's closest to them, and who are not in constant search of life's grandeur. I often tell my students good photographs can be found anywhere, and frequently within an arm's length of where they are standing at that moment. I hadn't thought about these thousands of colored rocks and I had no idea they existed until I chanced to spot them.

Glistening and clean in the tidal action, these rocks are a visual symphony, and it wasn't hard to find a grouping that included a pleasing range of colors, sizes, and shapes. And here's how I made the lemonade, with assistance from the clouds: Bright colors look richer on overcast days, when there is little direct sunlight to bleach their hues. Appropriately, I pulled my close-up (macro) lens from my bag, snapped it onto my D-300 and held it above this small sampling of beach, careful to keep the camera parallel to the ground to preserve edge to edge sharpness. Remaining open to something new led me to the gate of good fortune.

Photo of the Week: Jan. 28, 2010

HOW I GOT THE SHOT: The heavens finally opened up over Israel during the past week, bringing an end to a long spell of weather so mild that fruit trees began showing blossoms on the first of January. Because I live in the mountains, some 900 meters above sea level, winter storms don't pass over us, they pass through us. The tail end of one storm left the region shrouded in thick fog, and I had a vision of creating a sort of minimalist photograph with snow white blossoms set against a sea of white smoke. By the time I found an opportunity to shoot, the fog had lifted, but left behind remnants of the fallen moisture clinging to the blossoms.

As the calendar turns to the month of Shevat, so must the almond trees bloom in Israel. Choosing one randomly not far from my home, I set up my tripod and camera mounted with a macro lens for close-range shooting. Finding an appropriate subject takes a few moments of scanning the tree until my eye catches a candidate, which must also survive further scrutiny for blemishes, torn petals, or, most importantly, distracting backgrounds. It's a delicate process maneuvering the camera close to the subject and several times I gently knocked an adjacent branch, emitting shock waves that scattered the beads of rain and ruined my subject.

In the end, I did succeed with several images, including this one, which I chose because I like the way the background mimics the mottled look of the flowers holding drops of rain. With a macro lens, the subject is often mere inches from the front of the lens and the result is very shallow depth of field, perfect for throwing everything out of focus, except for the main subject. As the full moon rises in the sky this weekend, we mark Tu B'shevat (Jan. 29-30), the new year for trees in Israel. May we continue to merit the blessing of rain and seasonal renewal.

Photo of the Week: Jan 20, 2010

HOW I GOT THE SHOT: If photography were a normal occupation, I would be out shooting 8-10 hours every day. Sadly though, in the digital age, many photographers now spend more time anchored to their computer than stalking the wilderness. Every now and then, I do go out into the world with the singular purpose of creating new images, as I did last week when I had four entire days to prowl Israel's southernmost desert region, in and around Eilat. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my wonderfully supportive wife, Sara, who provides this ample space for creativity, accomplishment and success in both my work and my life.

This photograph was taken in the area of Nahal Shehoret, about 10 kilometers north of Eilat. Typically, I dragged myself out of bed at 5 a.m., stole past the dozing desk clerk and motored in the darkness toward a predetermined area, though I had no specific stopping point in mind. After driving six kilometers along a bumpy, dirt road, I stepped out of my car to inhale the morning air and inspect the landscape in the first light of dawn. This range – one of the most beautiful in the world - is comprised of multi-colored sandstone peaks, the result of different oxides found in the various rock masses. The most interesting photos of these mountains are those which allow the different colors to stand alone while also helping to forge the composition as a whole. Though the various shades of sand, pink, chocolate and even black are visible in many places, pulling three or more into one compelling photo is very difficult.

I parked my car, grabbed my tripod and bag, and walked a few meters up a slight incline – always looking for high ground to improve visibility - and I discovered this small field of boulders. From experience, I knew that light hitting these rocks from a side angle would give them dramatic form and provide strength to the foreground of the picture. I aligned my tripod facing northward and waited for the sun to crest the mountains in Jordan. Not a single living, green, growing thing in this shot; only the mind-boggling beauty of the meeting of landscape, light and lens.

Photo of the Week: Jan. 12, 2010

HOW I GOT THE SHOT: This past Shabbat, we recited the blessing for the new Hebrew month of Shevat, which begins this coming Shabbat. Among the prayers for the new month is a request for rain (in its season), something Israel desperately needs. Unfortunately, the region is in the midst of a long stretch of gorgeous weather, which, while very enjoyable, has not contributed to replenishing our depleted water supplies. I chose this week's image somewhat fancifully, out of a desire to see the country blanketed in snow at least once before winter's end. When a severe weather event dramatically alters a familiar landscape, it's easy to take satisfying photos because everything we see is new and different. This photo was shot two years ago, in the morning after an overnight storm dumped about 20cm on the Judean Mountains. A few hours into daylight, the sky was already clear and the meltdown had begun. With the roads closed, I set out on foot to a valley near my home. I was drawn to the piles of fresh powder covering the rocks in the foreground. They evoke a sense of the texture that accompanies a walk in the snow and return me to that blissful morning.